“It’s dark. The night glacially conquers the small ragged area close to the Red river. Traveling from nearby fields, the scent of rice glides past fondling gently the innocent faces of the starving children. Arctic winds start rushing immensely through the crack in the door to the ramshackle little sleeping place… Just over there, few kilometers toward the center of Hanoi city, the other kids are dreaming in the sweet embrace of their dear mothers. But here, in a small boat with a mere torn blanket and a small light bulb, four little children are shivering in coldness and hunger…”
I still remember 6 months ago, when I went to a workshop of Hanoi volunteer club in a fair. As I stepping into the room full of pictures and articles, the images of so many poignant lives and piteous faces appeared in front of me. I moved around and suddenly a photo grabbed my eyes. In that picture, there were three little shoeshines squatting at a small corner of a street in the hush of the dark night. In the hand of each boy was a wisp of creasy money that’d been wetted by his sour sweat after the whole day he worked. I guess as they were counting money, they were thinking about the day they would use that money to take a train back home with a big bag of presents for their mom and dad. The tomorrows of theirs were just like that night, dark and blurry with no exist. Seeing their premature faces, I felt stinging in my heart and then my tears started to fall. I didn’t want to look corny but indeed, I couldn’t help sobbing when I realized that, in my country, same lives are so abundant…
Hundreds of mixed up feelings surged up in my mind. A sixteen-year-old girl, growing up in parents’ tender love, attending the best national school, taking part in thousands of activities, singing well, looking lovely, having cool friends… All I’d considered necessary in my life were just excelling in class, studying English well, then getting a scholarship, and going to America. My dreams, my efforts, my passions_ all were confined within myself. Compared with the road-kids, I was just a coward. While they had to fend for themselves, tramping the streets looking for work, I buried myself in the belief that studying for the future meant everything…My pink little lens made life wrongly easier than it really was. I always thought that “work hard, go and get, success will come”, in my eyes did only the destination forward exist, and somehow I didn’t care about the world moving worse around me. Shame for me, as I always claimed that I would study abroad and come back to develop my country, I didn’t even one time volunteer to see how hard they lived and how much I could help them. That my selfish zone extended beyond my assumption led me to great self-shame and remorse.
After a short time, I began to work as a volunteer _ I believe this was not and will not ever be a wrong decision in my life. As I know and talk to them, the poor and the disabled, I’ve encountered and absorbed many values. From the shoeshine, how to smile to overcome hunger. From the disable, how to to optimistic to get over the gossiping of others. From all of them, I learn to be strong inside to treat flat all thorns of life. I’ve also understood how actually hard to make ends meet by self. I've learned how to concern for others. And the most important thing, i've learn to get out of my own zone to reach to the real world...
- Dear, what do you want for the New Year? I’ll buy it for you.
- Uhm, actually…
- You want clothes? Or sweet?
- Uhm, I…want a huge bag. Yesterday I saw dad at the rubbish dump, I might help him in his work. I…don’t…know. I don’t want to continue to go to school anymore…I want to work…
A blank paper has been marked up by the whole society, an innocent soul now just wants to crave for work…The big sad eyes of that ten year old boy have never faded off in me. It’s the incentive, the reminder for me of my promise, the promise to try my best to study, the promise to work the hardest, the promise to come back and devote all I have to the next generations of Vietnam
